Red Ghosts
by SUPRNTRAL LVR
Summary: Sam and Dean go to Grandview and encounter a certain especially dangerous spirit which leaves Sam struggling to survive... much better than it sounds, honestly! Lots of limp!Sam to come and Angsty!Dean. Supernatural and Ghostwhisperer crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, this was a pretty random idea I got when I saw Ghost Whisperer. Its probably been done before, but oh well I'll do it anyway :). I know pretty much next to nothing about the series apart from the fact that its about a woman called Melinda who can see and talk to ghosts and she runs an antique store with her friend Andrea and is married to a guy called Jim who is a paramedic. Apparently Andrea dies at some point in the future, so this story is set somewhere before that when nothing much is happening except for Melinda's ghost vibe. I'm typically a Supernatural fan so I probably know more about that area - its set somewhere in season 2, again when nothing much is going on (which is pretty hard to find when dealing with supernatural!).**

**Hopefully you guys will like this, just give it a go anyway!**

* * *

Sam leant back in the comfy, shaped seats of the Impala and turned his face towards the window. The wind rushed into his face, surprisingly soothing after hours of talking on mobiles and staring into laptop screens or squinting at books. He leant his mobile against his head, sighing. Dean revved the engine of his beloved car, and Sam glanced at him.

"Have they taken you off hold yet?"

"Nah."

"Jeez, Sam, give up already. I wanna have AC/DC back on!"

"Dean, we have to find out where this ghost came from. Destroying the ornament didn't work which means that Julie Beckan probably returned to haunt the town where her grave is. And remember, if we don't find her she could start killing people again in her search-"

"- for a perfect husband, I know, I know, save the drabble," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. "We're spending way to long on this dead chick, I wanna see some live ones again! Seriously Sam, its been at least three days since I had a really good-"

"Hi, Sarah," Sam said loudly, relieved that the woman had finally taken him off hold before Dean could finish the sentence. "Did you find anything?"

"Yes, I did, Mr. Walters," the girl replied. "Miss Beckan was buried in her hometown, Grandview."

"And that was in nineteen 'oh one, right?"

"That's right. So, now that we've got that out of the way I was wondering if you would like to maybe..."

"What's that Dean? We've taken the wrong exit? Oh jeez, sorry Sarah, I have to go. Thanks so much for all your help."

Sam flipped his mobile shut and shoved it into his pocket. He felt slightly guilty but he still didn't want any kind of relationship yet. It felt too much like he would be betraying Jess. He just wanted a little more time... he jumped as Dean swerved and yelled angrily.

"Oi! Damned dogs, I hate 'em... So, talk to me, where're we headed?"

"Take the third exit. Julie was buried in Grandview, her hometown."

"Any good chicks there? Modelling agencies?"

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean sighed and turned on the car CD player. AC/DC blared out into Sam's ears. Sam settled back in the seat, staring out of the window. This was going to be a very long drive. Dean glanced at him, grinning.

"Guess we're goin' to Grandview."

* * *

_The Same As It Never Was _came into sight as Melinda rounded the corner of the street. As usual, she felt a small rush of comfort as she looked at it - it had become like a second home to her. But, even as she moved towards it, a cold wind whipped her hair back from her face, accompained by a whisper softer than silk and yet somehow sharp as a knife.

_"I want a man.... I want a man.... perfection...."_

Melinda stopped, frowning. The call was unlike anything she had heard before - ghosts normally called in despair or grief, or sometimes even just made a passing remark. But this was different, almost like a queen uttering orders. Melinda turned slowly, scanning the green park just across the road. On the paven path in the centre of it, a woman in a short red dress span slowly in circles, tipping her head back so that her blonde curls caught the sunlight. As Melinda watched, she blinked gently in and out of sight like a candle flickering in the dark. Convinced, Melinda crosseed the road and headed towards her. Andrea wouldn't mind if she were a few minutes late.

She reached the path and walked slowly towards the ghost feeling in her pocket for her mobile. It was a trick she had found useful when trying to talk to ghosts in public. She put the mobile to her ear as she approached the spirit. The dead woman was turning to watch a man go by, a strange, cruel smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

"Excuse me?"

The ghost ignored her. Melinda hesitated, and then stepped directly into her path.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

The woman glared at her, one eyebrow slightly raised in confusion. _"How can you see me?"_

Melinda smiled. "My grandmother calls it a gift. Are you alright?"

The ghost turned her face away to watch another man walk past. She ran her tongue over her lips. _"I don't usually go for red-heads... but then maybe I should widen my search critera..."_

"Sorry?"

The woman flicked her head back to survey Melinda, her eyes cold. _"I don't want you. I want a man. I want... him."_

Melinda jumped as the woman abruptly vanished, and a rush of freezing air rolled over her. She turend to look in its direction just in time to see a black Impala appear far down the road. She hesitated, confused, and then slowly turned to return to her shop. Something clinked beneath her shoe and she looked down to see a small, silver pendant lying on the floor. Melinda picked it up slowly, running her hands over it. Then she turned and made her way back towards her antiques shop.

* * *

Sam winced and rubbed his forehead, frowning. The small pain in his temple vanished almost at once, but clearly his slip had shown up on Dean's big brother radar because all of a sudden the heavy rock music had vanished.

"What's up? Sam?"

"Nothing, Dean, I'm fine."

"Its not one of your-"

"No, Dean, its not a vision," Sam said quickly. "I'm fine, just leave it."

He turned to look out of the window, and heard Dean sigh. He tried to focus on something else, and an antiques shop flashed across the window. Sam froze.

"Dean wait. Stop!"

"What? You drop your eye liner or something?"

"Stop the car!"

Dean slammed on the breaks and someone behind them honked loudly. Dean yelled at them before pulling over. Sam climbed out of the car, looking up at the antiques store just a few shops away. Dean clambered out of the Impala and strode over to him.

"Care to explain, geek-boy?"

"That shop. Its an antiques store."

Dean looked from Sam to the shop and back again before plastering a mock-shocked expression over his face. "My god, how could I have missed it? Quick, Sam!" he grabbed Sam's arm, pretending to strain towards the shop. "We can go fill the trunk with ancient dainty hairbrushes and expensive vases! I know how much you love pink but I'd really love some sky blue china tea cups..."

"Dean!" Sam pulled his arm free, scowling. "Julie once ran an antiques store. There might be something in there that belonged to her and that we might have to burn."

Dean arched one eyebrow. Then he shrugged. "Yeah, whatev, if you wanna go look for a new dressing table you just had to say."

Sam rolled his eyes and followed Dean into the store.

* * *

"Melinda. Melinda! Look!"

Melinda looked up from the cashier. Andrea was nodding at two men who had just entered the shop, looking around as if slightly unsure of what to do. Melinda glanced at Andrea.

"What?"

Andrea raised her eyebrows. "More like _hot, _girl, look at them!"

Melinda laughed. "Yeah, well, knock yourself out I already have a husband."

"Yeah, rub it in why don't you." Andrea moved over towards one of the shelves, still eyeing the two men in what she clearly thought was a sly manner.

Melinda smiled. How halarious it would be if they turned out to be gay... of course, two men wandering around an antique store together did suggest that they were gay but somehow she didn't think they were. She couldn't help but sneak another glance at them as she turned back to the cash register. One was tall and lanky with an unruly mop of brown hair, the other shorter with a strong jaw line and short blonde hair. They looked strangely similar, and yet completely different.

"Any idea at all what we're looking for?" the shorter one muttered.

The mop haired man nodded, and then shook his head and shrugged. The shorter man rolled his eyes and walked towards the window, muttering something about not being seen in an antiques shop.

Melinda almost wanted to go over to them and ask them if they wanted help, but decided to let Andrea play this one. So she went back to the cash register - and the door blew open. Melinda's head snapped up as the ghost she had seen just a few minutes earlier swept into the shop, her dress swinging around her. Melinda dropped her pen, and the two men and Andrea turned to look at her. She smiled hesitantly.

"Uh, sorry... dropped my pen."

She ducked down to pick it up. When she straightened up again, the men had gone back to looking at the shelves and Andrea was moving over to her.

"What's wrong?"

"Ghost," Melinda murmured. "Front and centre."

"Nasty or nice?"

"Uh... I don't know."

Andrea paled. "Great, well, I'm gonna go sort some stuff out in the back room."

She stepped past her. Melinda put down her pen, watching as the ghost cocked her head to watch the two men. The taller one moved over towards the other side of the shop, leaving the smaller one behind, and the ghost jerked around to follow him, walking in sharp, sudden steps. Melinda swallowed hard. The ghost reached out and placed the palm of her hand on the small of the man's back. He winced, lifting a hand to his forehead. Melinda took a step towards the man, opening her mouth, but bit back the warning. What would she say? That a ghost was touching him? The man let out a small groan and reached out to touch the wall. His companion strode towards him, his eyes flickering with anxiety.

"Sam? Hey, Sam? You okay?"

"Uh, Dean I... ah!"

The man called Sam suddenly slumped sideways and Dean grabbed him, holding him upright. The ghost took a step backwards, one eyebrow arching, a smirk spreading aross her face. She glanced at Melinda, grinning, and then vanished. Melinda made for the two men, her heart in her mouth.

"Hello? What's wrong?"

Sam's fist was pressed against his head, his whole body rigid in pain. His eyes stared ahead, unfocused and empty. The man called Dean looked up, as if only just noticing her.

"Uh, he's fine. Its just this thing he has... I'd better get him back." He took a step towards the door. At that moment Sam let out a weak moan and his eyes rolled back in his head as his legs gave out. Dean, caught off guard, had nothing to do but lower him to the floor and kneel beside him, pulling him back against his shoulder.

"Sam? Hey, Sammy!"

Sam's head lolled to the side as Dean tapped his cheek, completely unresponsive. Melinda looked over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps to see Andrea appearing in the doorway.

"Andrea, call Jim. Quickly!"

"O-Okay..."

Andrea stumbled towards the phone as Melinda leant forwards. "Come on, I think Jim always says that you should get them lying down if they pass out."

Dean instantly tensed, his eyes narrowing warily. "Its okay, I got him."

Melinda raised her eyebrows. "Sir, he's unconscious. Come on, please."

Dean hesitated, but then he rose to his feet, dragging Sam up with him. Sam moaned softly, and Melinda moved to take his other side. Together they struggled over to the antique couch on the other side of the shop and lowered him onto it. Dean crouched down, running a hand over Sam's forehead. Melinda couldn't help but feel touched at the caring nature of the gesture.

"I don't understand, it doesn't normally effect him like this..." Dean muttered.

Melinda looked up at him. "What is it? What's wrong with him?"

Dean glanced at her, and something in his eyes sent a shiver down Melinda's spine. Somehow she knew right then that everything was about to change.

**Okay, there we go. Please review! No reviews and I'll assume I'm rubbish and give up now. Catch you next time!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it!**

**A/N: I was pretty surprised by the response to this - looks like you people like it! Thanks for all the reviews!**

* * *

"I think I hear Jim's car. Wait here, I'll be right back."

Dean scooted closer to his brother as Melinda rose to her feet and headed for the door. He didn't doubt that she was just a good person trying to help, but the longer they were here the more the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He just wanted to get Sam out of here and somewhere safe where he, Dean, could take care of him. Dean reached out and rubbed Sam's forehead, massaging it gently with his thumb. Sam moaned weakly and his eyebrows twitched, his eyes flickering beneath their lids.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean murmured. "Snap outta it already, you're scaring me here."

He was sure by now that this was not just the average freaky vision. This one was something else. None of Sam's other visions had ever effected him so badly before. Thankfully Melinda had closed the shop almost straightaway, so there was no risk of the wrong people catching Sam in the middle of a vision. Not that any hunters would be wondering around a Grandview antique shop in the middle of the day...

"This him, then?"

Dean looked up, instincively rising to his feet and moving in front of Sam as Melinda returned with a tall, brown-haired man holding a large first aid pack. Melinda moved between them, her eyes shining with that god damned 'please let me help you' sparkle that had forced him to stay anyway.

"Dean, this is my husband Jim. He's a paramedic, he can help your brother."

"I don't think so. He doesn't need that kind of help."

"So you know what's wrong with him?" Jim cut in, looking down at Sam.

Dean glared back at him, daring him to touch his brother without any kind of big brother permission. "You wouldn't understand."

Jim seemed to find that funny, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he knelt down and unzipped his pack before reaching for Sam. Dean moved between them quickly, his eyes flashing.

"He - _doesn't_ - need - your - help."

"Dean, please," Melinda begged, reaching out for his arm. "You can't tell me that your brother does this on a regular basis. You're just scared, but you have to let Jim help."

Dean stared at her in shock, completely stumped. What the hell was he supposed to say to _that? _It was as if she had just read his mind to the last detail. Taking advantage of his surprise, Jim felt Sam's forehead before taking his wrist and counting his pulse. Dean bit back the anger that threatened to pour out of his lips and folded his arms tightly. Jim frowned as he considered his options, pausing for a moment.

"Melinda, you don't have any open cables in here or anything do you?"

"What, like electrical? No, why?"

"Why, why?" Dean cut in, as if she hadn't already asked.

Jim shook his head. "Its like he's just had an electric shock or something. Somethings certainly hit him hard. His whole body just shut down..." he reached into his pack.

"What're you doing? Whaddya mean, 'shutdown?' What the _hell _is that?!" Dean demanded, his voice rising a pitch as Jim took out a needle and began prepping it for an injection. Jim looked up.

"Its okay.... Dean, was it? This is just an adrenaline shot, it should set him straight again. Think of it like rebooting a computer."

Dean stared at him, his mouth open. He wasn't sure if he was more insulted that Jim hadn't known his name, or that he had just compared Sam to a computer. He grabbed Jim's wrist as the man lifted the needle.

"Let me see that."

"No offence, but I don't think anything on there will mean anything to you."

Dean snatched the needle out of his hand and examined it, turning it on its side to read the tiny writing printed on the white curved surface. Jim rolled his eyes and rolled Sam's sleeve up, cleaning the area inside his elbow for the needle. Dean ran his tongue over his lips. It was clear that this was indeed an adrenaline shot - as if oh-so-perfect Jim were some evil demon or something anyway - and he remembered from previous hospital visits that doctors had given him and Sam such things before to wake them from unconsciousness. This injection wouldn't hurt Sam. But then, what did he really know about it? This was completely new to him.

"Are you finished?" Jim asked patiently.

Dean scowled at him and slowly returned the device. "Fine, just don't give him to much or it'll override his system."

Jim raised his eyebrows in surprise, but quickly hid the expression. Clearly he hadn't expected Dean to know so much about it. He turned back to Sam and felt for the vein in his arm before gently sliding the needle in. Sam's brow creased slightly, and Dean tensed but nothing else happened. Jim stopped and then withdrew the empty needle, placing it inside a plastic bag before putting it back in his pack.

"It'll probably take-"

"-A few minutes to take effect," Dean finished, shooting him a scowl. "I know."

Jim blinked and then looked at Melinda. "Could you grab a glass of water for him when he wakes up?"

Melinda nodded and strode into the back room. Andrea, hovering a short distance away, hesitated and then hurried after her. Dean looked back at Sam, crouching down beside him again and reaching out to rub his arm.

"C'mon, Sammy," he muttered, not caring if Jim heard him. "Quit freaking me out and wake up."

* * *

_"SAM! Get the hell away from him!"_

Blinding white light flashed across Sam's vision, blanking out the rest of the world. Images swirled in on him, each flashing past him so quickly that he could barely understand what he was looking at before it was gone. He heard Dean's voice, a woman screaming, someone else yelling something.

_"I've been looking for someone like you for a while..."_

_Sneering red lips, blonde hair flicking backwards... A dark-haired woman rose to her knees, blood gushing from a gash just on her hairline... Dean sprinting towards him, a torch in one hand, his gun swinging upwards in the other._

_"SAM!"_

_A tall, brown-haired man dropped to the ground, gasping for air as if all the oxygen was being sucked from his body, one hand at his throat. Blood spread over his chest, soaking through his shirt in a dark, damp stain._

_Red dress.... a red dress..._

And then, suddenly, the images had vanished leaving blackness behind. Sam dimly felt something soft beneath him, heard loud, droning voices around him. Something came down on his arm and he flinched, his eyes cracking open. Colours merged together in flickering blurs before him. He blinked slowly, squinting to try and force the colours into objects.

"Sam? Hey, over here little brother."

Two green eyes came into focus and he blinked a few more times to bring Dean's face into focus. He tried to say his brother's name but his tongue felt as if it had swollen up and his throat was dry. His voice came out a croak.

"D-De'n..."

"Just stay still for a little, okay? You know if you ever do that to me again don't expect me to catch you. I'll just leave you next time, you freakishly tall attention seeker."

"Sam, is it?"

Sam turned his head, surprised at how much effort the simple action took. Another man was kneeling beside him, studying him carefully. Sam recgonized him from somewhere, but he couldn't remember where... then he realized that he had just watched him die in his vision, watched him gasp his last breaths. He struggled to keep his expression neutral, but the way Dean squeezed his arm told him that his brother had noticed his shock.

"My name is Jim," the man was saying. "How are you feeling?"

Sam shut his eyes as his head seared and winced. "Ah... ow..."

"There's some tylenol in my car, go get it," Dean told Jim, handing him the keys.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "I'm the paramedic here, and I want to know how he's feeling-"

"Yeah? Well I'm his brother and I say get the painkillers."

Sam opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pain in his head. He must have blacked out. And someone had called a paramedic... things were about to get complicated.

* * *

"So you think it was the ghost?" Andrea asked, her eyes wide.

Melinda nodded, having just told her friend everything that she had seen. She retrieved the glass she had been looking for and crossed to the sink to fill it with water. Andrea followed her, still bombarding her with questions.

"But no ghost has ever done anything as dramatic as this before. Nothing's ever been so powerful. Are you sure it wasn't just a coincidence?"

"No, it was her," Melinda replied steadily. "There was something about her that really scared me... something wrong."

"And she's targetting those two? Why them?"

"I don't know. I think she's looking for someone."

"But the way that guy - Dean, was that his name? - the way he was acting, it was almost like this had happened before."

"Look, I don't know what's going on," Melinda told her, turning away from the sink. "I'll just have to talk to them."

"Hey."

They both turned as Jim stuck his head into the room. "You got that water? Dean's demanding tylenol, and he's not a patient man."

Melinda and Andrea followed him out into the shop to find Sam and Dean talking in lowered voices. They broke off as the others came in, and Dean turned on his knees to look at them.

"You got the water?"

Melinda moved over to him, holding out the glass. Her gaze flickered to Sam. He looked exhausted, pale blue smudges dark on his skin beneath his eyes, which were still half closed. Dean passed him the tablets and then handed him the glass, keeping one hand on it in case Sam dropped it. She knelt down beside them, and Dean glanced at her hesitantly.

"Well, thanks for your help but I think we can take it from here. Come on, Sam."

He put the glass down and reached for Sam's arm, but Sam shook his head. "No, Dean, we have to tell them..."

Dean's face went hard at once. "There's nothing to tell."

"No, we have to... they're a part of this, I saw it..."

"You saw it?" Melinda repeated. "What do you mean?"

Sam looked up at her, and she saw such a look of helplessness and fear in his eyes that her heart jerked in her chest. Dean reached out to grip Sam's arm, but Sam ignored him. He glanced at Jim, and then back at her again.

"I think you're in danger," he said softly. "I think she's coming after you."

"Who?" Melinda asked, almost not wanting to hear the reply.

Sam hesitated before repling. She could see that he was trying to decide whether or not he could trust her, whether she was safe. She held his gaze, silently pleading him to continue. He glanced at Dean, and then took a deep breath.

"The woman in the red dress."

**Okay, there goes another chapter. Please review!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it!**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one, I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can!**

* * *

_"I think you're in danger," Sam said softly. "I think she's coming after you."_

_"Who?" Melinda asked, almost not wanting to hear the reply._

_Sam hesitated before replying. She could see that he was trying to decide whether or not he could trust her, whether she was safe. She held his gaze, silently pleading him to continue. He glanced at Dean, and then took a deep breath._

_"The woman in the red dress."_

Melinda stared at him, hardly able to believe what he was saying. "The woman in the red dress?"

Sam winced and lifted a hand to his temples. "I know, you're not going to believe this but everything supernatural that you've heard about is real. We hunt things, evil things... we're hunting this ghost now, and I think I just saw her."

"You see them too?" Melinda gasped. "You have a gift?"

Sam looked up at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

Melinda was aware of Jim reaching out to squeeze her shoulder warningly - it was clear he didn't trust these two yet - but she ignored him. She pulled away from him and stepped closer to Sam. Dean instantly reached out to put a hand on Sam's arm, but his brother shook him off.

"I can see spirits," Melinda told him earnestly. "Ghosts, people who have died."

"Ho-kay," Dean cut in, moving between them. "Lets break up this freaky little psychic reunion here and stop this right now. You don't wanna know what we do and I definately don't wanna know if you're so mad that you think you can see dead guys."

"A little politeness would be nice," Jim growled.

Dean glared back at him. Sam weakly grabbed his sleeve, pulling him backwards. It was probably more the fact that Sam was exhausting the little strength he had in trying to stop his brother than him being stronger that made Dean back off. He crouched down beside Sam, lowering his voice.

"Sam, we are _not _going to tell some random loony about you. We don't even know-"

"Dean, they're involved. We have to tell them."

"No, Sam! We don't take chances!"

Sam looked away from him, fixing his gaze on Melinda. "You see ghosts?"

"Ever since I was a little girl, I've been able to see them," she told him, moving past Jim to talk to him easier. "I try to help them cross over, stop them from being stuck here forever."

"Jesus, Sam, she's making it up!" Dean groaned.

"She's not!" Jim snapped.

"Put your handbags away," Sam muttered. Dean scowled furiously, and Jim scratched his head uncomfortably. Melinda managed a small smile.

"We hunt ghosts," Sam continued, speaking just to her. "Malevolent spirits get so violent that they kill people sometimes, and when that happens we go after them. Right now, me and Dean are tracking this woman. Julie Beckan."

"The woman in the red dress," Melinda said, nodding. "What does she want? She wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't let me help her when I saw her in the park."

"You've spoken to her? What did she say?"

Melinda shook her head. "Just stuff about saying that she wanted a man, she didn't make much sense."

"We think she's searching for the perfect husband," Sam replied. "All her victims have been male. She seems to just pick a target and go for them... and then when they're not perfect..."

"Oh," Melinda murmured. "Well she dropped this."

She felt in her pocket for the pendent. "I think its hers."

Sam took it from her, frowning. He passed it to Dean, who also inspected it.

"Huh," Dean said. "Just like the photo from the records..."

"Yeah."

"So you've seen her wearing it?"

"In old photographs, yes," Sam said. "Thanks, Melinda, this might help a lot."

"But there's more," Melinda said. "I mean... when you came into the shop, she came with you."

Dean leapt to his feet almost at once. "What? What the hell? She was right here but.... but... I would have known!"

"Last time I checked, I was the freaky pshycic not you," Melinda said. "She came in and went straight for you, Sam."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "What happened next?"

"She just touched you, right on the small of your back. And then you keeled over."

"But it was a vision," Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. "It couldn't have been her."

"I don't know," Sam said. "It wasn't like a normal vision... I wasn't watching anything clearly, it was all in flashes and it was more.... painful."

"Visions?" Jim repeated.

Dean glanced at him coldly, but before he could speak Sam replied.

"I see the future. Its this thing I have... I have visions that predict the future. Of people about to die."

"You watch people die?" Melinda repeated, horrified.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah."

"Then what did you see? Who's going to die?"

Sam bit his lip. Dean put a hand on his arm. "No one," he said shortly. "Once he has a vision we know whats going to happen and we stop it."

"But wait," Melinda said, her eyes narrowing. "This ghost kills men, right?" They nodded. She looked at Sam. "Sam... I think she's going after you."

* * *

Sam's head was still killing him.

All he wanted to do was curl up and die, but he forced himself to stay awake. He rubbed his forehead and then opened his eyes a crack and looked blearily up at Dean, who was talking heatedly with Melinda and Jim.

"Nothing's going to happen to him, I'm going to keep him safe _on my own._"

"But we can help," Melinda insisted. "I can see her coming, and besides we know the area."

"This whole thing is gonna be over by tomorrow," Dean snapped. "I'm going to go to the grave and destroy the spirit tonight, and then there'll be nothing else to worry about."

"You really think Sam can dig up a grave like that? Besides, what if she comes back and goes for him while you're rolling around in the ground?" Jim snapped back.

Dean hesitated, clearly seeing that their words made sense. Then he shook his head. "Fine. Then we'll leave town tonight."

"No."

Sam's voice came out as a croak, and he cleared his throat before trying again.

"No, we can't... abandon the job..."

_Jeez, I was feeling better... what the hell is wrong with me? _He felt so tired, as if he was about to simply blink out of existence. He opened his eyes again and looked up at them, trying to focus on them.

"People'll die if... we don't... finish this."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not putting your life on the line, Sam."

"Don't... care."

"Sam?" Jim moved over to him and held a finger in front of him. "Look at my finger, will you?"

Sam could see three fingers. He tried to look at the central one but it kept moving. His head throbbed and he groaned, closing his eyes again. "Gimmie a minute..."

"Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice laced with fear. "You okay?"

"Its like he's experiencing a very severe concussion. It must be the effects of the ghost," Jim's voice was saying. Sam could hardly hear him any more - his voice was faded and distant. "How's your head, Sam? Sam?"

Sam winced as his voice grew louder, but he couldn't seem to make his mouth work in order to reply.

"I think we should call a hospital-"

"No, no hospitals. Too many questions. I'll take him back with me," Dean replied. "Once he's had some quiet he'll be fine."

"Well give me your numbers, so we can contact you if I see her," Melinda said.

Dean sighed but Sam heard the rustle of paper as he scribbled down their mobile numbers. Then Dean's hand came down on his arm.

"Sam? Sammy?"

"I really don't think we should be moving him right now."

"Sam? Come on, Sam, look at me."

With a huge effort, Sam pushed his eyes open and looked at Dean. Dean's face cleared with relief. "Okay, Sam, we're going to go back to the motel. Lets get you up, huh?"

He slid his arm behind Sam and gently pulled him upright. Sam tried to help him but his limbs wouldn't obey his comand, and he simply collapsed limply against his brother. Dean grunted as he pulled Sam up to his feet, pulling an arm over his shoulders.

"Jim, could you take his other side for me?"

Sam felt Jim's hands on his other arm.

"M'sorry, De'n," he managed to force out.

"S'fine, Sam, just stay with me, okay?"

If Sam had been alert he would have seen the fear and worry on Dean's face, maybe even noticed the way his voice trembled slightly as he heaved his little brother towards the door.

"Don't worry, Sam," he murmured. "I'm gonna look after you."

**Okay, that's all for now sorry this chapter was mostly just drabble but its going to pick up again soon, promise! See you guys in the next chapter! Please review!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it!**

**A/N: Next chapter... enjoy! :)**

* * *

Dean took a few gulps of coffee and leant back against the headboard of his bed. There were no motels close to Melinda's antique shop, and since Dean had wanted to get Sam lying down as soon as possible he had had to just take the first hotel he saw. He had picked up a couple of coffees and food for them on the way - a burger and fries for him and salad with a side of fries for his brother - but Sam hadn't woken up yet to have it. Instead, Dean had eaten alone and left his brother to sleep in the other bed.

Now, Dean glanced over at his brother who was lying on his front with his head buried in the pillow. He hadn't moved since Dean had heaved him onto the mattress, and Dean was beginning to worry since that had been three hours ago. If he was still unconscious half an hour later, Dean decided, then he would take him to a hospital. He hadn't seen Sam this weak for a long time, and it unnerved him. Looking at him now, Dean felt a cold rage towards the ghost who had inflicted this pain upon his brother. If he had to take Sam out of town he would, but once he was safe Dean would be sure to return and hunt the bitch down, make her pay for what she had done... And then there was the weird shop keeper, Melinda, and her husband. She claimed she could see ghosts, and Dean was no long sure if she was lying or not. He didn't want any loonies within a mile of Sam, but it was beginning to look like she might be someone who could actually help them sort this out. He knew Sam trusted her. Maybe he would just have to trust Sam.

Dean's head jerked up as Sam groaned on the other bed and rolled over onto his back. A grin spilt across Dean's face as he saw Sam's eyes open and bright, not clouded and unfocussed.

"Hey, Sammy. How're you feeling?"

Sam sat up, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "Much better. I think I'm okay."

Dean nodded, not convinced. "Well, I got you some of that girly green stuff you like and a coffee. Its over there, on the table."

Sam looked around. "Oh, thanks, Dean."

He scrambled off the bed and moved eagerly over to the table. Dean studied his movements carefully. No swaying, no stumbling, he seemed fine. Dean relaxed and drained the rest of his coffee, satisfied.

"So you're really okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. Whatever she did must have worn off."

"Yeah, well, it took its time. Any ideas on what that bitch actually _did?_"

"No," Sam replied, grinning as he tooka handful of fries. "But it wasn't enjoyable."

Dean nodded. "Well, it doesn't matter. As soon as it starts getting dark I'm going down to the graveyard to torch that monster."

"What do you mean 'I'm' going down? I'm coming with you," Sam protested, looking up.

"The hell you are," Dean said, standing up. "You're not going anywhere near her grave. What if she turns up, huh? No, too dangerous."

"Dean, you can't just order me around. I'm not a kid anymore-"

"No, but I'm the oldest so I'm in charge." The brothers glared at each other stonily. "I'm sorry, Sam, but you don't get a choice on this one," Dean said.

Sam's glare grew harder. In perfect unison both brothers folded their arms and sighed angrily. Dean frowned and Sam raised one eyebrow.

"I'm not gonna just sit around and knit, Dean-"

"Sam, you know I'll tie you down on the bed if I have to, I've done it before and I can do it again."

Sam's eyes narrowed, but Dean stood firm. Eventually, Sam lowered his gaze and sighed.

"Fine," he muttered. "Fine, okay? Go to the grave alone. I hope you get frostbite."

He grabbed a handful of chips and stuffed them into his mouth, chewing angrily. Dean grinned and moved over to his duffel bag, rumaging around for parrifin and salt. He didn't have to go for another few hours, but still he liked to be ready. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sam staring at him sulkily.

"Aw, suck it up, Sammy. How about I let you choose the music in the car tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah, great," Sam muttered sarcastically. "That makes it all okay."

* * *

Sam lay back on the bed, sighing. He was bored, alone, and feeling guilty. He should never let Dean go off alone, even if it was just a simple salt and burn. If only he hadn't been so weak, hadn't let himself be effected so badly by that stupid, ghost, if only he had been stronger then Dean would have been fine with him coming along. Instead he was just sitting around in a dull hotel room waiting for Dean to come back. And he'd only been gone ten minutes...

He sat up. He hadn't even thanked Melinda and Jim yet for all their help, and he was sure Dean hadn't. He could go down there quickly now... Dean had told him to stay put, but he didn't need to be babied. He could drop out for a few minutes. Sam rose to his feet and strode to the door, snatching up his jacket on the way. He locked the door to their room behind him and jogged downstairs, pulling on his jacket as he went. It wasn't like he was sick anymore - he felt completely fine. Dean had taken the Impala, but it was only a short walk to the shop and he could remember the way. And if it was closed, then maybe he could call her - Dean had taken her number and left it on the table, obviously not planning to do anything about it.

Sam nodded to the receptionist as he crossed the reception and pushed his way out of the hotel. A cool evening breeze rushed over him and he breathed it in, smiling. He needed some fresh air. He started towards the antique shop. He was just going to thank Melinda. What could go wrong?

* * *

Dean's shovel hit wood and he stopped digging, leaning back against the sides of the hole he had dug. He'd had to hang around for a few minutes since there had been a group of people standing near a grave, but they had soon left. It had taken him longer than he had anticipated to dig up the grave - the ground was hard and compact. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and then began to strike the coffin, easily breaking through the rotting wood. Even before he had fully uncovered the corpse he could see the remains of a red dress. So maybe Melinda had seen her... he wrinkled his nose at the foul smell and climbed up and out of the grave. He sprinkled parrafin over the corpse and then shook out some salt before reaching for a box of matches.

"Okay, bitch," he murmured. "Say g'bye."

He struck a match and let it fall. Flames roared up at once, licking towards his boots. Dean pulled the locket from his pocket, turning it over in his hands. He didn't think the ghost would cling to it as she had her remains, but he didn't want to take any chances with Sam involved. He held it out in front of him, the firelight dancing over its silver surface and turning it red and gold.

"And just so you know, I really hope you _don't _end up in heaven," he added.

Suddenly a huge wind rushed past him, so strong that he actually staggered backwards. The locket was ripped from his hand so hard that its chain tearing across his palm drew blood.

Dean whipped around, his mouth opening in a cry of shock and anger, to see the ghost appear before him. Her blonde hair swung around her face, and her eyes crackled with fury. The locket hung from her hand, swinging from side to side.

_"He's mine!" _she screamed. _"You can't have him! He's MINE!"_

Dean made a dive for her, snatching at the locket, but she vanished and Dean tumbled to the ground.

"No!" he yelled. "No! SAM!"

**Oooh, dun-dun-duh!! Hope you enjoyed it, please review!**

**SUPRNTR****AL LVR.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it!**

By the time Sam reached Melinda's shop, it was closed. He stood back from the door, scowling. He had really been looking forwards to seeing a friendly face. Sometimes with only Dean for company, things got a little lonely. He considered calling her, but then thought better of it. She probably wouldn't want to be bothered anyway. He turned to head back to the hotel.

"Sam? Sam Winchester?"

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder. Melinda had emerged from a side door in the shop, a bag swinging from her shoulder. She moved eagerly towards him, a surprised smile spreading over her face.

"What are you doing down here?"

Sam grinned and turned to face her, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I wanted to come down and thank you for earlier. I know Dean can be a bit rushed sometimes."

"It was nothing," Melinda replied, smiling. "You seem much better."

"Yeah, I'm fine. It usually wears off after a while."

"These visions, they don't seem like much of a gift," Melinda said as they began to move down the road together. "Are they always so painful."

"Well, that one was worse than normal," Sam said, forcing a small smile. "And no, its not much of a gift. More like a curse. Your spirit thing, isn't that kind of hard to deal with too?"

"Not really," Melinda replied. "I like to try to help lost spirits. Sometimes its hard when people call me crazy, don't believe me..."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Sam said, remembering Dean's attitude. "He just prefers it when girls are clamouring for his attention rather than telling him they can see ghosts."

Melinda laughed. They headed across the road and into the park, the darkening sky stretching their shadows out into long, thin creatures. A muffled ringing came from Melinda's bag and she stopped, frowning.

"Oh no... wait a second... oh..." she rumaged through it, struggling to get to the mobile. Sam held out his hands and she gratefully put her bag onto his palms, leaving both her hands free to search. She found the mobile at last and flipped it open.

"Hello? Oh, hi honey. No, I was just leaving the shop... yes, I ran into Sam. You know, the man from earlier? Yeah, he's fine." She shot a smile at Sam, who shrugged slightly. "Yes, I'm on my way right now."

Sam looked around as she chatted away, shivering slightly as the wind grew stronger. He zipped his jacket up and pulled his collar higher frowning. His breath clouded out in front of him. _Not a good sign... _Sam glanced at Melinda, who didn't seem to have noticed anything. He shook himself and tried to turn his mind away from the thoughts. He was probably just being paranoid.

"Yes. Oh? Okay, no that's fine. I'll see you later? Okay. Bye." Melinda hung up and took her bag back, pushing her mobile into its depths. "Thanks Sam."

"Jim?" Sam asked.

"Yes, it was. He says he hopes you feel better. We were going to go out tonight but he's going to be a little late, he got caught up at work."

"Oh, right. Shame."

"Yeah, well he's a paramedic so its not his fault." She cocked her head, as if catching sight of his edgy attitude. "What is it?"

"Can I ask you something?" Sam replied hesitantly, shifting around to look in the same direction as her. "Can you see anyone?"

"What, anyone like, ghosts?"

He nodded. She looked around, frowning. "I don't think so... why?"

"I just have this feeling." He bit his lip, still scanning the park. "Doesn't matter. Come on, I'll walk you back."

They began to move again, reaching the middle of the park. A second gust of wind rushed over them, and Melinda stopped suddenly.

"Sam? There was a flash of red over there."

Sam froze, following her gaze. He couldn't see anything.

"You sure?"

She bit her lip, clearly unnerved. "It was only for a second..."

Sam wet his lips. "Come on," he muttered, talking her arm and turning towards the road again.

Furious, cold red eyes glared back at him. Sam flinched backwards, and Melinda let out a short scream of horror. The ghost's mouth curved into a cruel smile.

_"Mine... perfection..._" she snarled, her eyes shimmering.

Sam pulled back, grabbing Melinda's arm and thrusting her towards the road.

"Melinda, go! Run!"

"But-"

"Go!"

The spirit took a step forwards, but Sam was already running. He knew that it was pointless to run from a ghost, but he had no other choice. Why the hell hadn't he brought his rock salt rifle with him? He pushed Melinda ahead of him, his eyes fixing on her antiques shop.

"You got any salt in there?" he called.

"I don't think so!" she called back.

Sam's heart sank. They wouldn't be able to get away from her. His only chance was to distract her and hope Melinda could get away. Sam skidded to a halt, his hand delving into his pocket for his mobile. He tossed it to Melinda, who had also stopped.

"Call Dean," he told her. "He'll help. Then run."

He turned to find that the ghost was slowly moving towards them with straight, deliberate steps. Sam felt cold fear spreading through his stomach. He balled his fists and strode forwards to meet her.

"Whatever the hell you want, you can rub her out of your plan," he growled. "Now back off. My brother's at your grave right now, burning your bones and your-"

_"My locket?" _she asked, lifting her hand to dangle it before him.

He froze. "What did you do? Where's Dean?"

_"Kicking himself in the balls, I should think,"_ she replied softly.

"Sam! Your brother says to stay away from her!" Melinda cried.

The spirit's eyes darkened and she flicked her hand. Melinda flew backwards and hit the statue in the centre of the park before tumbling to the ground. Sam let out a shout of shock and started towards her, but she was already rising to her knees. Sam recognized the scene from his vision as he took in the blood gushing from a wound on her hairline. She lifted a hand to the gash, her mouth opening in pain and confusion.

"Melinda!" Sam called, quickening his pace, but almost at once an invisible force threw him backwards. He hit the ground and rolled away from her, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. He scrambled up to his knees to find the spirit just inches from him, smirking coldly.

_"I've been waiting for someone like you... and now you're finally here..."_

Her hand came down on his shoulder and he sucked in a shuddering breath as his whole body became heavy. It was as if she was sucking everything out of him. His vision blurred and he shook his head to clear it. He had to fight to simply keep his eyes open. When the world span back into focus, her face was just inches from his.

_"Don't fight it, love... you cannot fight destiny..."_

Her cold, smooth lips touched his and Sam felt a sharp wave of agony rushing over him, quickly followed by a dead, leaden feeling. Darkness swirled in on him, blocking out everything, drowning him. He heard someone calling his name, but he couldn't even speak. All he knew was the voice whispering in the back of his head.

_"Mine... mine... you're mine..."_

* * *

The impala screeched to a halt outside the small house, and Dean scrambled out of it. He ran to the door and hit it hard with his fist. He heard muffled voices, and then the door opened to reveal Jim's anxious face. Dean pushed past him, catching sight of Melinda sitting on the living room sofa pressing a pack of frozen peas wrapped in a cloth to her forehead. He started forwards, his eyes blazing.

"Where the hell is my brother? What happened?"

Melinda winced, pulling away from his loud voice, and Jim caught his arm and pulled him back.

"Leave her! She's just been assulted by a spirit, give her some air."

"Yeah? Well so's my brother and he didn't come back!" Dean pulled free, turning to look at Melinda. "Tell me what happened. Now."

Jim pushed past him and sat down beside Melinda, putting his arm around her shoulders protectively. She nodded to him and looked at Dean.

"I found him on my way out of the shop. He said he wanted to thank me for earlier, and then Jim called and said he was going to be late that night so he offered to walk me back. He said he had this bad feeling and then she just came, appeared right in front of us. He told me to call you and I did, but he was turning to face her so I tried to warn him but then she knocked me backwards. When I looked up again he was on his knees and she was in front of him with her hand on his shoulder. I tried to shout to him but he didn't seem to hear me."

"And she took him? They just vanished?"

"Well... first she... she kissed him."

Dean stared at her silently, his face hard as stone. "She... what?" he asked softly.

"I don't know what it meant. After that they both just vanished. He didn't even look around when I called to him."

"Where did she take him?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know I was just-"

"You didn't do _anything_?"

"Its not like you were there helping either," Jim said coldly, and Dean bristled.

"Hey, I was the one burning the bones!"

"Which didn't work," Jim reminded him.

"Guys!" Melinda cried, looking from one to the other. "This isn't helping Sam! We have to find out where he is."

Dean turned away from them, tearing at his hair in desperation. "God, this can't be happening... I was supposed to protect him..."

"Miss Beckan lived here, didn't she?" Jim said. "Don't spirits haunt the places they knew best?"

Dean turned, frowning. "Yes. Her old house?"

"Its a start," Melinda said.

Dean paused, thinking. "You got a computer? Can I use it?"

"I'll get my laptop," Jim said, rising.

Melinda looked at Dean, lowering the peas. "Dean... I'm sure he'll be okay."

"No. No, he won't." Dean whispered, running a hand through his hair. "I was supposed to save him from this. Well, I will. I will." He added, his eyes flashing once more. He turned towards the window. "I'm coming, Sammy. You hold on. I'm coming."

**Okay, end of chapter! Hope you people liked it, if you did leave me a review, or if you didn't, or if you didn't really care either way. Reviews keep me writing!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of them!**

**Can I just say thank you sooo much for the reviews they're really keeping me going! Thanks so much to everyone!**

_She ran one hand over his face, a smile tweaking at her lips as he stirred slightly. She sat there, letting out a small sigh as he stilled once more. She had pulled his head and shoulders up onto her lap and kept one arm locked over his chest. She had lost her last kill to those damned hunters, and she was not going to lose another. Besides, she had a strong feeling that this was it... that he was the one. His soft, perfect face was just waiting for her to touch it, his strong muscular body was sculpted and flawless. And inside him she could feel a turmoil not unlike her own... he had also lost someone he loved. Together they could do so much._

_He moaned and her smile faded. He was still fighting against her power, refusing to give himself over to her. She may have to help him along the way, but it would take time. Besides, people would be looking for him. The strange, meddling woman who had tried to speak to her before certainly would not give in so easily. She let her hand wander over his face once more, her fingers lingering on his lips before sliding upwards to rest on his forehead._

_"Don't worry, love," she murmured as he winced slightly at her touch. "I will show you the way."_

_And she bent her head to whisper into his ear, her lips so close that they brushed his skin and sent shivers rolling through his body._

* * *

Dean tightened his hand on the rifle hidden under his jacket as he reached the house. In the murky twilight it seemed huge and imposing, the black windows glaring out like soulless eyes. He glanced at his watch. Sam had been missing for just over two hours now, and that was two hours too long. He knew that every second Sam was gone he was closer to death. Melinda and Jim moved to his side. He had tried to get them to remain at their home, but they would not listen to him and he did not have enough time to argue with them. The whole point of this was to get Sam back, and he didn't care how or if some insane woman and her husband wanted to follow him there.

He jogged up the steps and tried the front door, but not surprisingly it was locked. The house had been abandoned since its owner died - its wasn't exactly strange. Dean pulled out the rifle and thrust it at Jim, who took it gingerly.

"Should we try and climb in through a window?" Melinda asked, clearly scared.

Dean pulled a paperclip from his pocket and knelt in front of the lock. It only took him a few moments to unlock the door and push it open. He stepped into the house and his heart sank.

"Shit," he muttered.

"What is it?" Melinda asked, her eyes widening.

Jim lifted the rifle, his face pale. "Do you see her?"

Dean scowled and snatched the rifle from his hands. "Watch it, that's loaded. And no, she's not here."

"What? How can you be so sure?"

Dean shook his head slightly. "Listen. You can hear the house settling, hear owls outside. Its not even cold in here. There are no spirits here."

He turned and stalked out of the house to the Impala. He threw the rifle into the front seat before leaning back against the smooth car, pressing both hands over his face. He heard footsteps and then felt a hand on his shoulder.

"We will find him, Dean," Melinda said.

"There has to be something else," Jim added. "Something we missed. Where did she die?"

"We destroyed the place she was originally haunting, she couldn't have gone back there."

"Well, is there anything about her that might help, anything you can remember?"

"She was just a woman madly in love, she worked in a storage facility for a factory..." his voice trailed off. He let his hands fall, his eyes suddenly dancing with hope. "There's an abandoned warehouse just outside of town, right? I saw it on the way in. Am I right?"

"Yeah, it was abandoned a few years ago when the soda factory moved..." Jim stopped as he caught on. "You think she might have gone there?"

"Well she didn't go home, did she?"

"Its worth a shot," Melinda agreed. "Let's go."

Dean ducked into the Impala and started the engine, hardly even waiting for the others to get in. He had one last chance.

By the time they reached the warehouse, it was so dark that Dean could hardly see his hand in front of his face. He pulled into the desserted parking lot and got out, moving much more slowly than before. He grabbed the rifle, taking off the safety.

"Okay, _now _I'm feeling it," Jim muttered. "The spooky vibe thing."

Dean could feel the cold air biting into him, feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck even as Jim spoke. Beside him, Melinda bit her lip.

"There's definately someone here," she said. "But I don't know about Sam."

"He's here," Dean muttered.

And he was. Dean could almost taste him in the air. He strode towards the warehouse, fear and anger driving him forwards. He tightened his grip on the rifle, his eyes narrowing. As he reached the doors, Jim stepped ahead of him and put a hand on the doors, holding them shut.

"Dean, I don't know. Do you really think diving in like this is the right thing to do?"

Dean glared back at him. "She won't let him go without a fight. I'd rather get it over with while Sam's still alive."

Jim hesitated. "Melinda, I think you should stay here."

"No!" Melinda objected. "What if you two don't see her? You need me."

Dean lowered the rifle. "I really don't care what the hell you two want to do, so how about you get out of my way and decide on your own so I can get in there and help Sam?"

He pushed Jim aside and kicked open the doors. Without another thought, he stepped into the darkness, Melinda and Jim on his heels.

**Sorry this chapter was so short but I haven't had that much time on my hands! I'm only doing two fics at once at the moment so I should have the next chapter up pretty soon. Please review!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of them!**

**Let me just say thanks for the reviews again! I love reviews!**

Dean knew at once that this was where the spirit had taken up residence: as soon as he stepped into the huge, dark room his breath began to mist in front of him. He pulled a torch from his pocket and flicked it on, casting its clear beam over the room. It seemed to be empty but for a few scattered boxes, although the darkness seemed to swallow up the light before it could do much good.

"Do you see him?" Melinda whispered, making him jump. He glared at her.

"No, and shh!" he hissed.

She bit her lip. He took a deep breath and then stepped forwards, moving into the middle of the warehouse. Jim and Melinda kept close behind him. He swept his light around the warehouse, but the darkness was thick and he could see next to nothing.

"Show your face!" he yelled at last, fustration taking over. "Come out, bitch!"

"Dean," Melinda whispered.

He glanced at her irritably. She was squinting into the darkness. She pointed, her hand trembling slightly.

"There."

Dean swung the beam of his torch around. In the dim light he could just make out a figure slumped on the floor. His heart stopped.

"Sammy!" he gasped, sprinting forwards.

He heard Jim hiss his name but ignored him. Nothing was going to come between him and his brother now. He reached Sam and dropped to his knees, pulling his brother into his arms. Sam's head lolled back against his shoulder, his glazed eyes staring towards the ceiling. Blood glistened on his top lip - his nose had been bleeding. For one horrifying moment Dean thought he was dead. His hand fumbled for his throat, and he froze. Then he felt it, a tiny, fluttering pulse against his fingers. He let out a rush of breath and let his head drop to his chest, exhausted.

"Sam?"

His brother didn't reply, just stared into space. Silent. Frozen. Unresponsive.

"God, is he okay?" Melinda asked, crouching down beside him. "What did she do to him?"

Dean tightened his grip on his brother. He realized just how cold Sam was - his skin was like ice.

"He's freezing," he muttered. "We have to get him out of here."

Melinda straightened, her eyes locked on something behind him. "We might have some trouble doing that..."

Dean twisted around, keeping his grip on his brother. He couldn't see anything. "She's here?"

Melinda nodded, her eyes shining with fear. "She's just... watching..."

Dean pressed his lips together. His hand moved to his rock salt rifle, which he had dropped on the ground.

"Jim, I'm trusting you to take Sam," he murmured. "Do NOT leave him behind. Got it?"

Jim nodded. Dean slowly laid Sam's unresponsive body down and rose to his feet. In one, fluid motion he turned and fired in the general direction Melinda had been looking in.

"I said come out, bitch!" he yelled. "Now! NOW!"

She appeared a few meters from them, her red dress swinging around her. She grinned. _"So you came back. Don't you understand? He's mine now. Mine."_

Her voice sent a shiver through Dean, but he glared at her all the same. "He doesn't belong to you. We're leaving. And I am going to send your ass to hell, and you can't stop me."

She smirked. _"I won't stop you... he will."_

"Who?"

Her eyes flickered to Sam. Jim was crouching beside him protectively. She cocked her head. _"Sam... time to wake up."_

Sam took in a shuddering gasp that shook his whole body, and his eyes snapped into awareness. Dean let out a sigh of relief.

"Sammy?" he asked.

Sam's eyes stared past him and into the spirit's eyes. Her eyes narrowed and he sat up, his expression hard as stone. Dean felt a prickling of fear along his spine.

"Sam?" he repeated. "Sammy? Hey!"

Sam looked at him. Dean almost flinched - he had never seen that kind of look in his brother's eyes before. Cold. Murderous. _Evil. _He span around, aiming his rifle at the ghost.

"What did you do?" he demanded. "What did you DO?"

She smiled at him sweetly. _"I told you... he's mine. He's perfect. Its our destiny."_

"Release him!" Dean demanded. "Now!"

She looked at Sam. The two words that left her lips were small and simple, but they sent a chill rushing down Dean's spine.

_"Kill them."_

Dean turned to look at Sam, who was glaring at him. "Sam... Sam, don't. Think. Remember me, Dean? Your brother? Come on, Sam, please, just try."

He caught sight of a glint of metal and his stomach dropped.

"Jim! JIM MOVE!"

Too slow.

Sam's knife plunged into Jim's chest.

**Right, that's your lot. I'm sorry its so short but I really wanted to get this bit up before I started on the rest since its a real turning point. Please review!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of them!**

Melinda watched in horror as Jim gasped, one hand going to his throat as if he coudn't breathe. She started back towards him but Dean grabbed her arm, holding her back. She strained against him.

"Jim! Oh, god, Jim!"

Sam rose slowly to his feet, still glaring down at Jim. In one swift movement he brought his knee forwards, knocking Jim over onto his back. The other man lay there, choking and gasping, his hands stained with blood as he fumbled at his shirt. Blood was spreading over it in a sickening wave. Melinda felt tears streaming from her eyes. She cried out Jim's name again, and the realized that Sam was lifting his foot to stamp the knife in deeper, his face twisted and unrecognizeable.

"Sam, no, please!" she begged, pulling against Dean's grip. "Please! Jim!"

_BANG!_

The rifle in Dean's hand went off with an alarmingly loud bang which echoed around the huge warehouse. Sam let out a harsh scream and stumbled away from Jim, clutching at his side where the rock salt had embedded itself in his flesh. Dean finally released Melinda and she ran to Jim, falling to her knees beside him. She took his face with both hands, and his eyes flickered to hers.

"Jim... oh god, honey, tell me what do do," she said, her voice choked with sobs. "What should I do?"

She looked at the knife and reached out when he didn't reply, thinking she should take it out. But his hand latched over her wrist with surprising strength.

"D-don't," he forced out. "It'll... b-bleed..."

She nodded. "I'll call an ambulance, okay?"

"Sammy?"

She twisted around as she felt in her bag for her mobile. Dean had lowered the rifle and was moving cautiously towards Sam, who was hunched against the wall. The ghost appeared at his side, wrapping her arms around him. Sam shuddered, turning his head towards her, and she stroked his hair.

_"Shh, love, it will heal," _she whispered. _"The wounds of your heart will heal..."_

Melinda realized with a jolt that she probably didn't even realize that Sam was injured - she was repeating words of her own past. Dean's face was contorted with fury and grief as he moved forwards, his rifle still ready.

"Get away from him."

Her eyes narrowed. _"He's mine."_

"Sammy, do you hear me?" Dean called, appealing to his brother. "Sam? C'mon, man, listen to me."

Sam lifted his head, his eyes cold and dark. Melinda caught sight of a flicker of silver on his shirt and frowned, leaning forwards. There was something around his neck...

"Get away from us," Sam snarled. His voice was rough and harsh, nothing like the Sam she remembered. "We're in love. We're together."

"Don't tell me you believe that crap, Sam!" Dean cried. "Come on! She's using you, she's playing with your head."

Sam shook his head. "No. We're in love. We're in love."

He repeated it, his voice a monotone. The sound of it made Melinda's stomach fall away. She punched in nine one one on her mobile and lifted it to her ear. Dean was only a few meters from his brother now, and the ghost tightened her grip on him.

_"You cannot seperate us."_

"You cannot seperate us," Sam said, copying her words.

_"We're in love."_

"We're in love."

_"We're meant to be together."_

"We're meant to be together..."

"Stop it, Sam!" Dean snapped. "This isn't you and you know it. Snap outta it, now!"

_"He doesn't need you anymore. He only needs me," _the ghost spat.

A rush of freezing wind blew through the building, whipping Melinda's hair up. She shuddered, looking down and taking Jim's hand. He squeezed her back weakly. By the time she looked up again, Sam and the ghost had vanished and Dean was standing rigid and alone.

"Dean!" she called. "Dean, help me!"

Dean turned slowly, his face pale. He ran a hand through his short hair and over his face, sniffing. Someone finally picked up and Melinda forgot him, turning to Jim once more.

"Hello, yes, I need an ambulance..."

She explained where they were and what had happened before hanging up and looking at Dean again. "Dean, please help," she whispered.

Dean blinked and then slowly moved over to her. Jim was struggling to draw breath by now, agony written in every line on his face with every gasp of air he took. Dean crouched down beside them and examined the wound.

"He'll be okay. If it had hit a lung he'd be choking up blood by now."

"There must be something we can do-"

"No. Just wait for the ambulance." Dean rose to his feet and headed for the door. Melinda jumped up, fear leaping through her.

"Dean! Where are you going?"

Dean paused at the door. "I have to find Sam. I... I'm sorry."

She heard the pain in his voice and nodded. He hesitated.

"The ambulance will be here any minute. Make something up, say you were mugged or something. I just have to stop her, before she..." his voice trailed off.

"Okay," Melinda whispered.

She turned and knelt beside Jim once more, taking his hand.

"Keep breathing, honey," she murmured. "You're going to be fine. The ambulance is on its way."

When she glanced over her shoulders a few moments later, Dean was gone.

* * *

_She knew he was in pain, and it confused her._

_He was lying against her, his eyes half-closed, his arms still wrapped about his middriff. With ever breath he took she could feel him trembling. She knew he had black and yellow bruises all over his stomach, but she found that it didn't worry her as much as it should. She was concerned but... but not concerned enough. She played with a lock of his hair as she thought, looking down at his blank face. Where was his love in return for hers? Why did he not openly accept her? Why did she have to keep pushing him? Back in the warehouse he had almost broken free, but she had regained control. She frowned, her eyes narrowing._

_Maybe he was not the one._

_Maybe she had been wrong._

_She would give him one last chance to prove himself. After that... well. She would not be so forgiving._

* * *

"Dean, I'm telling you," Bobby said. "I've only ever seen one other ghost this powerful, but even it vanished after I'd burned its remains. That's your only hope."

"But I did! Apart from the locket, but she has that now."

"Then until you find it, it looks like you're in a rut."

Dean pressed a trembling hand against his eyes. "I... I just don't know how much longer he has left Bobby. None of the other victims lasted more than a day. She acted pretty attatched to him but... I just don't know."

"I'm sorry, Dean. You know I'd be down there as soon as I could-"

"No," Dean said shortly. "I don't want any more of my family getting caught up in this. I'll save Sam."

"Okay, kid. Just be careful."

Dean hung up and threw his mobile down on the bed. He pulled his dad's journal towards him once more and began to flip through it for the millionth time. He had hoped - no, prayed - that Bobby would have had something to say that would help but the older hunter was just as stumped as he was. Sam was in trouble.

"Come on, Dad, give me something here," Dean mumbled, scanning each page. "I need something... anything..."

His mobile rang and he fumbled for it desperately, certain that it would be Sam saying that he had escaped somehow, that he was okay... he was in such a rush that he didn't even bother to look at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Dean, its me."

His heart sank. Melinda.

"Hey," he said gruffly. He still felt bad about leaving her alone in the warehouse with Jim bleeding on the ground, but he had to find Sam no matter what the cost.

"Jim's stable," Melinda said. "He was lucky... really lucky. It wasn't as bad as it looked." Her voice still sounded as if she was holding back sobs, but at least she was keeping it together.

"That's good," Dean managed.

"Is... have you had any luck? With Sam?"

Dean shut his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself. "No," he said softly. "I haven't."

"I'm sorry. But there was something I forgot to tell you, something... well, I don't know if it'll help or not."

"What?" Dean asked tiredly, rubbing his forehead. He very much doubted that Melinda had anything to say that would help him rescue his brother.

"Just that when I looked at Sam, he had something around his neck."

"What?"

"I think it was the locket," she said. "Sam was wearing the ghost's locket."

Dean froze. "Are you sure? Are you _positive?_"

"Yes."

Dean leapt to his feet, the journal sliding from his lap and hitting the floor. He ignored it. "That's what it is! That's what she's using to control him. If we just get it off him then maybe... maybe..."

"You think he'll be back to normal?"

"Its worth a shot," Dean replied. "And with the locket we can destroy this bitch... uh, I mean ghost. Melinda, thanks."

"Its okay."

Dean hesitated. "Listen... about Jim... it wasn't Sam's fault," he said defensively. "He wasn't in control of himself. If he had known what was happening he never would have done it. The guy can't even kick a dog. He would never have hurt Jim intentionally-"

"I know," she said. "Its okay. He's going to be fine."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Then I guess I just have to find a ritual to summon this bitch and we're good to go..."

"Call me when you do."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Melinda's voice smouldered with anger. "I want to be there."

"I don't know-"

"Dean, please. You owe me this much."

Dean sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll call you. We'll kill her together."

* * *

**So they have a plan... but something's bound to go wrong... ;) Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review if you did!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of them!**

Melinda passed Jim a glass of water and perched on the coffee table in front of him, watching him carefully as he drank it. He moved gingerly, cautious of his wound, but did not seem to be in any great pain. He glanced at her and grinned.

"You can stop hovering now, Melinda, I'm okay."

She snorted. "Yeah, well, you were just stabbed so forgive me if I'm a little worried."

"I'm alright. You heard them - I was lucky."

_Extreamly _lucky. Sam could not have aimed the blow at a better angle - it had missed all of Jim's internal organs and major blood vessels, causing only a large tear in the muscle. The amount of blood had made it look worse than it really was. Melinda reached out to take the empty glass from Jim's hands.

"Do you want anything? Should I put the TV on?"

He smirked. "I should get stabbed more often - usually its only ghosts that get this much attention from you."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, if you're going to be sarcastic about it..."

"No, no!" he said quickly. "TVs fine."

She reached for the remote and switched on the TV. They stared at the music channel for a few moments before Jim spoke.

"Have you heard from Dean? Or Sam?"

"Not since the hospital," she replied, shaking her head. "Dean thinks he knows how he can free Sam, but he has to summon the ghost first. He's trying to find a safe way to do it right now."

Jim laughed shortly and then winced. "_Is _there a safe way?"

"I hope so," Melinda sighed. "I don't think Dean's going to care if its safe or not: he'll do anything to get Sam back."

Even as she spoke, her mobile rang. She made a dive for it and fumbled for it, her nerves on edge.

"Hello?"

"Melinda, its Dean."

Her eyes met Jim's. "Dean? What is it?"

His voice was straight and determined, and he spoke clearly and briskly. There was no hint in his voice of fear, although his words sent shivers over her body.

"I have a plan. Its time."

* * *

Dean glanced around, and then down at his watch. If she didn't arrive within the next ten minutes, he would start without her. He was lucky that Grandview was so quiet - setting up a summoning ritual in the middle of the park hadn't appeared to be the brightest idea at first but then it was the first place Melinda had spotted their ghost. It may therefore be the easiest place to summon her to. Besides, the warehouse was crawling with police who were searching for the person who had stabbed Jim (he wasn't certain of the story Melinda and Jim had made up and didn't care as long as it kept the cops off his own back) and the ghost clearly wasn't that attatched to her old house. This was their best chance.

He turned at the sound of footsteps to see Melinda hurrying towards him. His heart sank - he had been hoping she wouldn't turn up in time. He didn't like involving her in this. It was too much like dumping a lamb in a cage of wolves. Her eyes flitted over the candles, circle of salt and journal laid out on the grass.

"Here, Dean? Are you sure?"

He just nodded.

"How does it work?"

He picked up the journal and began leafing through to the ritual he had selected earlier. "Basically, I speak some Latin, the candles go bang and the ghost appears."

"And the circle of salt?"

"It should keep her trapped. That way we can get to Sam without her interfering."

She nodded. "So... now?"

Dean looked at the journal. "Yes. Are you ready?"

She nodded again.

He took a few deep breaths. Then, speaking slowly and clearly, he began. "Ego voco vos hic iam in nomen of deus , Sarcalogos quod flamen. Adeo mihi iam is nox noctis. Ego queso sive quod to order vos , videor pro mihi iam. vox of orbis terrarum dico vos , videor pro mihi iam. vox of Olympus quod abyssus dico vobis , videor pro mihi iam. Ego voco vos hic. Adeo mihi. Adeo mihi. _Adeo mihi!"_

The flickering flames of the candles leapt up with a sudden roar before dying to nothing again. Dean shut the journal and pushed it into his pocket before reaching for his rifle. Not that it had done much good to fend off the spirit last time, but it made him feel better. He glanced at Melinda.

"Shout if you see her."

She licked her lips nervously. "Is she coming?"

"She should be."

He looked at the circle of salt, locking his eyes onto it, and concentrated on breathing steadily. He could do this. He could do this. He was going to get Sam out of here in one peice. His brother was going to be fine...

"Dean!"

As if on cue, the ghost matirealized inside the circle, her face already contorted in fury. Sam stood behind her, his dull, emotionless eyes staring at the floor. Dean lifted the rifle, forcing any emotions away.

"Last chance now, bitch. Let him go."

She glared at him, furious._ "Why can you not leave us alone?" _she snarled. _"We are happy together."_

"Yeah right! its just 'cos you're controlling him, and you know it. So just free him and we all go home happy."

_"And then what?" _she demanded, scowling. _"You burn my corpse and send me to god-knows-where?"_

"That's the general idea, yeah," Dean replied coldly.

Her eyes flashed and she turned, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Her lips moved, and a shudder rolled over him. He lifted his head and stared blindly at Dean, who tightened his grip on his rifle.

"C'mon then, Sammy, come and get me."

Sam stepped over the line of salt and moved over towards Dean, his movements jerking and sharp. Dean hesitated, and then tossed the gun to Melinda who caught it and stared at it in confusion.

"Use it on her, not on us," he called before turning to face Sam. He didn't want to hurt his brother - no more mistakes.

Sam stopped a few paces away. Dean caught sight of a glint of silver and looked down to see the locket hanging around his neck. He swallowed hard.

"Sam? If you can hear me, man, then take off that thing. If your love is really so powerful, then you don't need it anyway do you? Just take it off."

_"Sam," _the ghost growled.

Sam's fist pulled back and lashed out at Dean, and Dean only just managed to avoid it. Before he could recover from his dodge, Sam was hurtling forwards. Dean caught one of his wrists and Sam's other hand wrapped around his fist; the brothers tumbled to the ground, locked together. Sam was alarmingly strong, and Dean found himself struggling to keep his grip on his brother. Sam jabbed at Dean's face and Dean craned his neck away desperately.

"Sam, stop it! Sammy!"

Sam ignored him. With a huge effort Dean rolled over so that Sam was underneath and pinned his brother down. Unfortunately, he now didn't have a free hand to remove the locket. He began trying to secure Sam's arms with just one hand so that he could use the other one, but Sam squirmed and and thrashed wildly beneath him like a python.

"Sam, I'm trying to help you!" Dean ground out through clenched teeth. "Listen to me!"

A sudden wind sprang up in the park, and Dean looked up to see the ghost raising her arms. His stomach jerked. She was going to blow away the salt circle.... and then she would be free.

"Melinda!" he cried. "Melinda, shoot her! Stop her!"

Trembling, Melinda tried to aim the rifle. It fired, but missed the ghost completely. Sam, taking advantage of Dean's sudden distraction suddenly kicked out with both legs, catching Dean in the chest and throwing him backwards. He scrambled to his feet and turned towards the ghost, taking a step forwards. Dean threw himself at him, locking both arms around Sam's shoulders. Sam wrenched against his grip, but Dean held fast.

"Melinda, NOW!" he bellowed.

His hand closed around something smooth and surprisingly warm.

_He had it._

This was his only chance. He had to do it now before the ghost escaped and ruined everything. Dean shut his eyes, building up his strength. He didn't have enough time to pull it off over his brother's head or unclasp it, besides Sam would never stay still. Already he was almost throwing Dean off, his struggles making Dean almost lose his grip. He would have to tear it free. He gritted his teeth. Then he pulled as hard as he could.

The ghost let out a howl and Melinda shouted his name.

But all Dean could hear was the agonized scream that ripped from Sam's lips, hovering in the air for a few moments before falling deathly silent.

**Almost at the end now! This story has turned out kind of short, but oh well. Hope you're enjoying it anyway! In case anyone is wondering, the ritual thing is just a bunch of random stuff I fed into an online translator, no voodoo or anything. In English its '**I summon you here now in the name of god, christ and the holy spirit. Come to me now this night. I beseech conjure and command you, appear before me now. The powers of the earth call you, appear before me now. The powers of heaven and hell call to you, appear before me now. I summon you here. Come to me. Come to me. Come to me!' **Hope you liked this chapter, if you did, please Review!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of them!**

**As always, thanks so much for the reviews, people!**

The pain was so great that all Sam could do was scream. Nothing else existed. Nothing else _mattered. _White hot jabs of agony invaded his head, causing his body to convulse and jerk uncontrollably. He just wanted it to stop. He didn't care what would happen afterwards, he just wanted it all to end.

_Please, just kill me now... please just stop..._

The agony rose to an unbearable level, and darkness enveloped him. He let it come - darkness meant that he could finally stop screaming. Pain attacked every part of his body in sharp stings, rolling up and down his spine...

And then it was over.

Sam waited, but the pain did not return. The relief he felt was so strong that he almost cried. The darkness remained around him, settling around him like a blanket. _Am I dead...? _He couldn't find it in his heart to care much if he was. He was just glad that the pain was gone.

"Sammy? Sam?"

A hand touched his face and he winced, his head throbbing as it registered the contact. Wait, if he was dead then surely he shouldn't be able to feel anything... the hand moved over his cheek and gently brushed his hair back. All at once Sam's whole body convulsed and he jerked to the side, retching. The hand held him steady as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. When he finally had nothing left to bring up, someone rolled him onto his back and held him in strong, calming arms as shudders wracked his body. He became aware of the voice speaking again, hushed and shaking slightly.

"Its okay, Sammy, you're gonna be fine. Can you hear me, man? Come on, Sammy, just give me some sort of sign."

He knew that voice, almost better than he knew his own. He forced his eyes open a crack, and a yellow buzzing light glared down at him. He squinted against it, picking out a shillouette that seemed to glow against the blaze. He blinked slowly, and the arms tightened around him.

"Sammy?"

The face came into focus, and Sam felt a small smile tweak at his lips. "D-De..."

He couldn't even finish the word. Why was he so weak? What had happened? But, despite his pathetic attempt at speaking, Dean's face split into a huge grin.

"Sam, thank god, I thought... damn it, Sammy, never do that to me ever again."

Sam felt his eyelids growing heavy. Dean shook him slightly as they began to slide closed.

"No, no, stay with me. Just keep looking at me, okay?"

_Red dress..._

Sam's eyes widened as the memories came rushing back at him. He tried to speak but his voice rasped and died in his throat.

"De.... re.... gh-gh...st..."

Somehow, Dean understood. He looked around, and then back down at Sam. "She's gone."

_For now. _The unsaid words echoed in the air between them. Sam felt his eyes closing once more and this time, no matter how hard he fought against them they wouldn't open again. Dean shook his shoulder again.

"Sammy?"

"C-Ca...n't..."

"Your body's been through a lot tonight, I don't want you shutting down when you pass out."

"Dean? Is he alright?"

Another voice. Melinda? Sam would have opened his eyes to see but couldn't, so instead he just listened.

"He will be," Dean was replying. "We should get him inside."

"My house is nearer, we can take him there if you want."

Dean hesitated. Then, "Okay. Here..." A jangling sound. "... you drive. Bring her over here so we don't have to walk too far."

Sam would have burst out laughing if he could. Dean was handing over his keys to someone he barely knew - it must be killing him! Sam felt himself abruptly being pulled upwards by the arms and groaned, wanting to just lie still.

"I know, Sam, just gimmie a hand here."

Dean supported him on one side, one arm under his shoulders and the other gripping his chest to stop him from toppling forwards. Sam did his best but after just one step his legs caved in and his strength left his body. It was as if he had become completely boneless. Dean pulled him along, whispering words of encouragement.

"Come on, Sam, you can do it. Almost there now. Almost there, Sam. Come on."

Sam's head was beginning to pound. He let it fall against Dean's shoulder and felt Dean stiffen slightly.

"Sammy?"

"Nnrgh," Sam mumbled.

"Stay awake, just for a little longer. You can do it."

_No I can't... _but he fastened his teeth over his lip and bit it hard. The sting brought him back to consciousness slightly, and he managed to help Dean a little as the metallic taste of blood rushed down his throat making him feel as if he were about to throw up again. All at once Dean ducked down and he felt the smooth, cool leather of the back seats of the Impala against his back. When had he laid down? And then the car was moving, the rumble of the engine distant and vague. But all the time he could feel Dean's arms around him, anchoring him in reality even as he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Melinda pushed open the door and stood back to let Dean inside. He moved in, hampered by Sam's dead weight on his shoulder. His brother had ceased trying to help him at all, and hadn't responded since they had got into the Impala. But at least he wasn't outside anymore, or in the ghost's clutches. Spotting a sofa, Dean inched over to it and deposited Sam onto it. He crouched down in front of him and gently ran a hand over his forehead. He had a slight fever, and when Dean checked his pulse it was fast but strong, but apart from that he seemed to be okay. Dean eased him down into a lying position and glanced up to where Melinda was hovering on the other side of the sofa.

"Can you get me some water?"

She nodded and moved quickly towards the kitchen. Dean pushed Sam's hair back from his face, studying him carefully. He was pale and every now and then he shivered as if caught in an icy wind. Maybe it was just the shock of the sudden release from the ghost's control. The experience hadn't exactly been enjoyable, that much was clear. Dean remembered the moment when Sam had screamed and then dropped like a stone, remembered pulling his brother into his arms and shouting his name. He had been so sure that his brother was dead.

_But he wasn't, _Dean reminded himself feircely, _and he won't be._

"You found him?"

Dean looked up to see Jim appearing from a doorway, one arm wrapped around his chest. He would have told the man to get lost, but maybe a proffesional's opinion would help. He shifted aside for Jim to sit on the coffee table in front of Sam and watched as he checked his pulse.

"He's very weak... what did she do?"

Dean shook his head. "Maybe this is what happens. Maybe she wants more than they can give, and after she has their minds she starts feeding on the rest of them."

His own words sent cold fear through him. But Sam was safe now, he was going to be fine. Jim leant back from the sofa.

"We should get some food into him as soon as possible, but we'll just leave him to rest for now."

_Exactly what I was going to do anyway..._

"Melinda, could you bring in some water?" Jim called.

"I already asked her," Dean said as Melinda reappeared holding a glass. He took it from her before Jim could do so and moved into the paramedic's place, easing Sam up into a sitting position. "Sammy? I'm gonna give you a drink, okay?"

Sam didn't respond, but when Dean tilted the cup against his lips he swallowed the water without a fight. When Dean was satisfied, he put the glass down on the coffee table and laid Sam back down again. As he straightened up, the lights flickered.

Dean froze.

"Shit..."

"Her?" Melinda whispered.

"We'll get out through the back door," Jim said quickly, but Dean shook his head.

"Its too late. You can't run from a ghost." He looked up as the lights flickered once more, and the radio came on, projecting static into the room. Dean swallowed hard. "She's already here," he murmured.

**Gasp! Yeah, I'm mean leaving you with a cliffie like that but I'm eating in five minutes and wanted to finish this chapter first! :) Hope you all enjoyed it, please review!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of them!**

**Sorry for the wait on this one. Thanks for the reviews!**

Dean flinched as the ghost appeared in the kitchen doorway, her eyes burning red with anger and passion. He moved quickly between her and the sofa, sheilding Sam from her gaze. Behind him, he sensed rather than saw Jim and Melinda move back slightly, finally having learned not to encourage the bitch to bite. Dean cursed silently as he realized that he had left his rifle in the Impala: in the haste to help Sam he had completely forgotten about it. And now he was in trouble.

"Don't do this, Julie, please," Melinda called out.

It took Dean a moment to realize that she was talking to the ghost - he had stopped thinking of her as a person long ago.

"You can still go back. You don't have to kill. Its time for you to move on."

_"Shut up,"_ the ghost snarled. _"He betrayed me, and he must pay for it!"_

"Betrayed you?" Dean repeated.

_"He doesn't love me,"_ Julie said shortly. _"He lied! He is empty, like me, and yet he is not the One!"_

"He never _wanted _to be 'the one!"' Dean shouted back, his fists balling in fury. "You forced him into this. He's not meant to be with you, you hear me? So just back the hell off!"

Julie's eyes flashed with fury. _"His soul called to me!"_

"You chose him randomly out of all of us, it had nothing to do with him!"

A wild smirk danced across her face and she lifted a hand. A silver chain dangled from her fist. _"I only give this to those who call out to me. Those who are _special._ Like him."_

Dean's stomach jolted as he recognized the locket swinging from her hand. His own hand flew to his pocket. He had taken it with him when he had pulled it from Sam's neck - he remembered because it had been so warm - but then had wanted to make sure Sam was okay first. He should have destroyed it straight away... he gritted his teeth as he stared at the locket.

_Idiot, you idiot..._

Abruptly, Julie's hand slashed sideways and Dean was thrown backwards into the wall. He heard shouts of surprise as Jim and Melinda recieved the same treatment, and then a groan of pain from Jim as the sudden movement jolted his wound. Dean landed hard on the floor and lay stunned for a moment before twisting around again, his heart in his mouth. Julie was crouching in front of Sam. As Dean watched, she reached out and placed the hand holding the locket on the side of his face so that the metal lay against his cheek.

_"You betrayed me!" _she growled.

Sam's eyes snapped open and he gasped in shock, his back arching in agony. Dean's heart froze.

"Sammy! SAM!"

He scrambled to his feet and launched himself at the ghost. To his surprise he hit flesh and bone and they both tumbled backwards, her voice shrieking in his ears. It only took him a second to remember that ghosts sometimes became solid when they became very emotional. But that second wasted gave Julie enough time to draw back her marble-white hand and hit him hard in the face. The force behind her hand sent him flying backwards and his head connected with something hard. Black dots danced before his eyes, blocking out the rest of the world. He shook himself and looked up to see Julie on her feet and stalking towards him, her face twisted.

_"He lied, he is not perfect! I need the perfect man, a soulmate!" _She stopped, and then suddenly crouched down before him and took his shoulder. _"But you... you are so brave... maybe..." _her eyes flickered over his face and body before moving back to his eyes. _"Maybe _you _are the One."_

Panic leapt through Dean's body like an electric shock. She was going to kill him. "No, I'm not. Just get the hell out, I... I'm not..."

_"But maybe you are." _She tightened her grip on him. _"Maybe you are the perfect man."_

Pain suddenly spiked through his body and Dean heard himself screaming in pain. His scream quickly died as his body went lax. His limbs would no longer obey his commands. It was as if she was sucking everything out of him, his very life force. Was this what Sam had been through? The pain dulled to an insistent ache, and darkness began to spread over his vision...

... and then suddenly, it stopped.

Dean jerked and sucked in a gasp of air as her hand vanished from his shoulder. His eyes flew open. Julie was on her feet, doubled over, her mouth open in a silent scream of pain and shock. There was a jagged tear in her shoulder, as if she were being ripped in two. She span around, and Dean squinted past her.

Sam was on his knees on the sofa, holding a tiny crumpled photograph. He had torn a tiny rip in it. Julie stared at him in horror.

_"You... TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF HIM!"_

She started towards him, stumbling and staggering on her way. Fear rushed through Dean and he tried to sit up, but his body was still completely leaden. Sam was feeling in his pocket, his face drawn and pale in panic. He pulled out something small, and a golden spark lit the darkened room, quickly bursting into a small tongue of fire. Julie screamed in agony as flames leapt up around her feet, blackening her skin to ash, eating greedily at her dress, catching on her hair. She screeched again, and at the same time Sam dropped the burning photograph as it crumbled to ash and the fire ate at his fingers. Julie howled once more, and then vanished, melting into nothing.

Silence. Finally, the rushed, gasping sound of hard breathing broke it and a few seconds later the lights flickered back on. Dean realized that he could move, and sat up quickly. He scrambled over to the sofa, where Sam was crouched there trembling.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered.

Sam winced and glanced up at him. He smiled shakily. "I... I'm okay." He shut his eyes, letting out a sigh of releif. "It's over. It's all over now."

Dean nodded, letting his own eyes fall shut. "Yeah, Sam... yeah, it is."

* * *

Sam breathed in the clear, clean morning air and blew out gently, a grin spreading over his face. A hand pounded on his shoulder, and Sam turned, looking over at Dean.

"Sorry to interupt your, ah, moment Sam, but we should get going."

Sam nodded. "Sure."

He turned to the antiques store, where Melinda was approaching. Dean leant against the Impala while Sam stepped forwards to meet her, taking her offered hand warmly.

"Thanks for all your help, Melinda," he said. "We couldn't have got through this without you."

She smiled and hugged him before turning towards Dean. She hugged him and then pulled back again. "Are you sure you have to leave so soon? I mean, you could stay for a few more days."

"No, its best if we move on," Dean said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "But you'll tell Jim thanks again for us, right?"

She nodded. "He'd be here, only his work... well, you know."

They nodded. Dean turned and slid into the Impala, while Sam touched Melinda's shoulder one last time.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, smiling. "I'm fine. Thanks again, Melinda."

"Thanks for letting me know there are others like me out there," she said, shrugging. "As long as you're hunting, I'm pretty sure the world will be a better place."

Sam smiled at her one last time, and then climbed into the car beside Dean. They waved one last time to Melinda, and Dean pulled the car away.

"Honestly, you're such a damsel in distress, Sam," he muttered. "Always needing me to come save your neck."

"Can't help it if I'm a hit with the girls, Dean," Sam replied, grinning.

Dean snorted, but didn't smile. "Sam... she said you were empty. Any idea what she meant by that?"

Sam sighed. "I... Dean, its just that... with all my visions messing us up and what happened to Dad... sometimes I do feel a little empty. Like there's not much hope. I mean, we don't know what the hell yellow eyes is planning for me, we don't know how any of this is going to go down."

"No, but that doesn't mean we have to get all depressed," Dean said. "Besides, while I'm around nothing bad's gonna happen to you."

Sam smiled. "I guess not."

Dean glanced at him for a moment, and then, satisfied, returned his attention to the road.

"So I guess there's only one more troubling question."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

Dean smirked. "Why the hell did she pick _you _over _me?_"

**Okay, that's it! The End! El Fin! Hope you guys all liked it, please please Review for me!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


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